


Headed North

by rose_indigo_and_tom



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Teachers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 21,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_indigo_and_tom/pseuds/rose_indigo_and_tom
Summary: Mitch loves kids. He’s always loved kids, ever since he started having baby cousins when he was in elementary school. When he was applying to universities he already knew he wanted to teach little kids.Auston was never particularly good with kids growing up, and he never particularly liked them either. Yes, he had a younger sister, and they got along okay, but he was never the type to seek out children, and they never seemed to like him either. That was fine with him, though.They never would have crossed paths, until underemployed MFA post-grad Auston takes a job teaching art at the same elementary school as Mitch.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta’d. 
> 
> Handwaving as to how Canadian private school works. All of it is based off of my own knowledge of private schools in the US and some very basic googling.
> 
> Featuring a small cameo from Sydney Esiason, Matt Martin’s irl girlfriend, but it's minor. 
> 
> Title from I and Love and You by The Avett Brothers.

Mitch loves kids. He’s always loved kids, ever since he started having baby cousins when he was in elementary school. When he was applying to universities he already knew he wanted to teach little kids. He had some vague sort of idea that he might teach a general class or maybe P.E., but he wasn’t really sure. 

Then he went to university, and grudgingly took the one art class that was required for graduation. He hadn’t expected at all to like it, because he had never been particularly good at art, and had always chosen to play hockey ahead of draw (or something) in his free time, but something about that university art class just fascinated him. The professor and the other students were a very different sort from him, always coming to class in paint- or charcoal-stained clothes, and the boys had long hair while the girls kept theirs short, and generally fulfilled all kinds of other stereotypes about what artists were like. 

He struggled with the professor’s instructions, wanting some concrete instructions about precisely what he should have been doing, but once he figured it out, he found the act of drawing extremely calming, and at the end of the semester it seemed completely obvious that he should sign up for the next art class, which focused on painting instead of drawing. And from there he was hooked. He never became quite like the other students in the department, who dreamed of using art to change the world, and he never stopped loving playing on the club hockey team, but it became more and more clear that he wanted art to be a part of his future. 

So, he studied art in addition to education, and when he left university he went to work teaching elementary school students the beginnings of drawing and painting and ceramics at this little school in Scarborough. He lived with Connor and Dylan, two of his classmates from university who were together, and he played hockey on the weekends in winter, and he was very pleased with his quiet little life.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Auston was never particularly good with kids growing up, and he never particularly liked them either. Yes, he had a younger sister, and they got along okay, but he was never the type to seek out children, and they never seemed to like him either. That was fine with him, though. Between school and hockey and baseball and his friends, he never really thought about hanging out with little kids or wanting to babysit or anything.

When he was five years old, one of his aunts gave him a camera for Christmas. It wasn’t a fancy one, because who gives a fancy camera to a five year old, but it was his own, and he started carrying it around everywhere, taking roll after roll of film of photographs of his friends, his neighborhood, his parents, the parks near his house. All of his allowance that didn’t go towards candy or the movies with his friends went towards film and the cost of developing new photos. As digital cameras became the thing everyone was using, he saved up his money to get one, and that allowed him to take even more photos without the price of film and developing.

When he was in high school, he immediately signed up for the photography class that was offered, and had his first taste of developing his own film and photos. That was a totally new experience for him, not something his family had ever had the resources for (especially with the rise of digital photography making it less and less common). The repetitive motions of the process, and the smell of the chemicals and the soft, warm darkness of the darkroom captivated him entirely. He became more involved in the process, taking more different types of photographs and different art classes, and ended up applying to art schools for college, to study art with a concentration in darkroom photography. 

He went to RISD, thousands of miles away from where he’d grown up, but it had the most impressive program, and while Arizona was hardly Texas, he wanted to be somewhere a little more…open. One or two experiments in high school had been enough to convince him he wanted to be somewhere where no one would blink an eye at the sight of two men hand in hand.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mitch, to no one’s surprise, loved his job. There was one other art teacher at the school, Sydney, a woman a couple years older than him who was engaged and apparently blissfully happy (and so was almost never grouchy or rude to him). They had one big classroom with a small office that they shared, with lots of big windows looking out onto a courtyard, and the room always smelled of the same blend of washable acrylic paint and Elmer’s glue that Mitch’s art classroom had smelled like when he was a child. The students were absolute darlings, even when they were being rowdy, and he liked teaching them exactly as much as he’d always thought he would—more, even. 

Living with Connor and Dylan got a little weird sometimes, because they were adorably couple-y, always cuddled up on the couch or hugging each other from behind in the kitchen, or on one unfortunately memorable occasion exchanging blowjobs on the couch when Mitch came home from work. But also they were his best friends and he’d known them since high school so he gladly put up with them still being overly excited to be living together. Connor was in law school, so he was home at kind of weird hours, and Dylan worked at a gym doing personal training, so he was also home at kind of weird hours, so it seemed like they were either always around or never around depending on the day or the week.

He’d been working at the school for three years when it turned out that Sydney and her fiancé Matt were having a baby in February and she was going to be leaving and they were going to have to get a long term sub to fill in for her for the rest of the year, maybe longer. That was kind of a bummer, because Sydney and Mitch had become decently good friends and he’d have to get used to working with someone new, and so would the students. But February was a long time off from October, so he mostly put it out of his mind and tried focus on staying afloat with 100 five to eleven year olds coming in and out of his classroom every week.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

After he got his BA, Auston moved up to Toronto to get an MFA, mostly because he had a boyfriend who was from there and wanted to move back, and he’d always thought it was a cool city. He hadn’t been out of the country much in his life aside from a study abroad semester in Switzerland, and moving to Canada seemed like a cool thing to do with someone he loved.

And it was, until they broke up. And Auston had just finished school and was living alone in Liberty Village in an apartment meant for a couple that he was trying to pay rent for by himself, while also trying to find a full time job somewhere and working at a café and doing freelance work on his weekends (which never seemed to align with the actual weekend).

So one day, when he was looking online and saw that some private school out in Scarborough was looking for an art teacher mid-semester, he figured there wasn’t a good reason not to apply. He didn’t really think he’d get the job but it never hurts to try, and he was getting sort of desperate by that point. And how bad could the commute possibly be?

It took ages for him to hear back from the school, a few weeks into December, so long he’d figured that was their way of saying “thanks but no thanks,” but then one day he did. The principal who’d called him seemed pretty desperate, desperate enough to ask him to come in for an interview as soon as possible, and to overlook the fact that he had an MFA, not a teaching degree. So he called the lady back and scheduled a meeting with her the very next day.

That morning was cold (not that he’d expected much else), and he struggled clumsily to put his winter coat on over his suit jacket, something he hadn’t had to do in forever. Freelancing and working in a café hardly required one to wear a suit, after all. He hadn’t driven in ages either, and it was odd to be behind the wheel again, although he was glad he’d kept his car after he saw how long the train ride would have been. 

The school was in a big brick building, older but not overly imposing, with cherry red doors and big windows across the symmetric facade. It looked like a school out of a film or something, with big trees in the front, and the sounds of children laughing as they ran across the playground in the back. He walked up the big stone steps quickly, feeling nervous and nostalgic, the kids reminding him of how much he’d enjoyed his own elementary school, nostalgia momentarily painting over the snow and naked trees with green grass and new leaves, filling the air with golden sunlight and the smell of Arizona summer. 

The principal, Dr. Agarwal, was a woman in her middle forties, smiling but harried looking, thin and fashionable, with the slightest trace of an accent under her words. 

“So, Mr Matthews,” she began, after shaking his hand and showing him to the chair in front of her desk. “One of our art teachers is leaving us in February and its unclear when or if she’ll return. We’ve so far been unable to find anyone to fill the position on such short notice, and unfortunately we can’t pay very much. I’ve looked at your work online, and seen your experience and while I know it’s not exactly what one generally teaches in primary school, I assume you could hardly have gotten through six years of art school without knowing something about painting and drawing. Would I be correct in that assumption?”

In the face of that speech, he hardly knew what to say. This was vastly different from any of the other job interviews he’d been to, but, “Uh, yes? I did painting and drawing and a little bit of 3D in undergrad, but not much since then.”

“I see. Well, we have another art teacher here already, and he’s been here for three years, so I’m sure he can show you how things go here. It’s hardly complicated and we’re really nearly out of options here. Now, about the issue of salary…”

She went on to name an amount only slightly more than what Auston was making already, but he would take it for a steady, full time job with regular hours that was actually relevant to his degree. The school even offered to sponsor him for a Maple Leaf Card if that was what he needed to stay in Canada and work there if the other art teacher wouldn’t return, contingent on his good performance at the school. That in itself was compensation enough, because his student visa was running out and he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to remain otherwise.  
So, Auston walked out of the school with considerably more figured out in his life than he’d had when he came in, and a date to start his new job. He didn’t have a ton of friends, since he’d met almost everyone he knew in Toronto because they were friends with his ex, and that was a weird situation, after. Of course there were a couple people he worked with at the café that he was friendly with, and some of his neighbors. Mostly, though, he just worked and slept and went running or skating if he had any spare time, so he didn’t really have anyone to celebrate with, and found himself calling his little sister to celebrate instead of going out to a bar. That was kind of depressing, but he hoped he’d make some friends once he started this new job.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When Mitch and Sydney found out they had finally found someone to be her replacement, they both actually sighed, out loud, in relief. Sydney and Matt had been talking more and more about her maybe taking a few years off after the baby was born to be a stay at home mom until the kid started school, and Mitch knew that the school’s inability to get someone to take over for her had been worrying her, that she would have to come back right away so the school and the students wouldn’t be left in the lurch. Now, though, that wasn’t a concern. 

When they found out, though, who Dr. Agarwal had hired, they were both considerably less relieved.

“He’s an American?”

“He doesn’t have any teaching experience?”

“Who knows if he even likes kids?”

“What am I supposed to do, teach him four years of teachers’ college in a week before I leave?”

“Look, for the amount we’re paying him he doesn’t have to be great. His portfolio is impressive, if not geared towards children, and he was very nice and polite when I talked to him. Mitch, he’s about your age, and just got out of school. You both started off with no experience too, and now you’re doing great here, so there’s no reason to believe he won’t be the same. It will be fine, I’m sure. And besides, he’s not coming tomorrow. He’ll start at the end of January, and that’s that.” Dr. Agarwal said. She was normally very kind and friendly towards all the teachers, but all administrators have their limits, and she was, after all, their boss.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The time between when Auston was hired and when he was supposed to start flew by. He went home to Arizona for a week around Christmas and New Years, and then gave his two weeks notice at the café almost as soon as he was back. He started collecting clothes that would be appropriate to wear at the school (since even the most liberal of private schools would certainly look down on his several pairs of distressed jeans). He scheduled a few freelance jobs in the coming weekends (which he would now have off, because unlike cafés, schools were actually closed on the weekends!)

The commute actually was going to suck, kind of a lot, given that until now he hadn’t really had to drive at all unless he specifically chose to. He’d been seriously considering getting rid of his car until this opportunity came along, and he was not looking forward to driving to Scarborough to work every day. It would be worth it though, he told himself. More time to listen to podcasts, the news, whatever new indie bands people on the internet were freaking out about that week.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For Mitch, the time also went quickly, but for a vastly different reason. He was dreading Sydney’s departure and the arrival of Matthews, dreading the amount of extra work he’d have to take on once she was gone. He was at his parents house for a couple days around Christmas, but it was only a thirty minute drive anyway, so it wasn’t like he didn’t already see them fairly often. 

Connor and Dylan were gone for several days too, off visiting each of their respective sets of parents for a few days and probably playing too much shinny with Dylan’s hockey-obsessed pack of brothers and cousins and neighbors. It was nice to have the apartment to himself, no fear of walking in on them fucking on the couch, but also pretty lonely. It did get weird sometimes, always being the third wheel. Even their friends from university all seemed to be getting together, leaving Mitch alone or set up on increasingly awkward double dates with a variety of guys who heard that he was an elementary art school teacher and just checked out. 

When school started back up they were working on “The Snowy Day” inspired collages, and the classroom became a mess of tiny triangles of paper. Even when the kids were only supposed to be cutting big pieces, there always seemed to be a million tiny triangles of paper all over the floor, and the tables, and the countertops, and the children. But Mitch didn’t mind sweeping them up in exchange for the fun the kids were clearly having. That was really what this class was about, after all. Fun and creativity and a break from having to sit still and be quiet all day. 

Sydney was pretty giant by this point, and Mitch could tell she was a combination of nervous and very excited about the baby, something that was only furthered by being surrounded by the littlest kids once a week, their tiny five year old voices piping up the oddest platitudes about babies, the kind only little kids can come up with. She seemed to have mostly come around to the idea of having Matthews replace her, and had as good as said he could stay on for the next year if he was good enough, that she was more and more sure she wanted to take a long leave to be with her kid when it was born.

Of course, her increasing certainty about her leave, and Mitch’s subsequent dependence upon Matthews to be good, just made Mitch more and more nervous. And so like that the day he was supposed to come lurked closer and closer until it finally arrived. Mitch went to school that morning with a pit in his stomach, dressed nicer than he probably would have otherwise, trying to make a good first impression. 

When he walked into his classroom, an hour before any of the kids would show up, Sydney was there already, also looking nicer than usual. 

“He’s in the front office right now,” she said when he asked, “filling out some forms, SIN, tax information, all that kind of stuff. Agarwal said she’d walk him down as soon as he’s done.”

“As soon as he’s done” turned out to be in about ten minutes, enough time for Mitch to make some coffee in the staff room and start to think about what supplies they would need for the first class that day. He heard the principal’s voice and clicking high heels in the hallway before he saw her, saying “…and this is the art room!” brightly, someone awkwardly murmuring in response, his voice too deep for Mitch to hear his words clearly. 

They came into the class when Mitch’s back was turned, leaning on one of the tables and looking out the window, trying to look cool and like he didn’t care that his friend’s replacement-to-be was right there. He turned, and instantly thought, “Oh, shit.” 

The man with Dr. Agarwal was big, taller and broader than Mitch, his pants walking the line between “fashionable” and “too tight to wear to work.” He had an awkward little smile, his hair messed up like he’d taken off his toque and hadn’t looked in a mirror since. He looked nervous, his mouth open just a little as he looked around the classroom.

Mitch took a few steps in the direction of the principal and Matthews, and stuck out his hand. “Mitch Marner,” he said. 

The other man shook it firmly. “Auston Matthews.” 

If this had been a movie, there would have been some kind of actual spark as they clasped hands briefly, looked into each others eyes. Instead, Mitch just thought “Well, I can’t hate him when he looks like that,” and Mattthews was probably thinking something like “This other teacher is so small.” (Or at least that’s how Mitch always assumed other men felt when they met him.)


	2. Chapter 2

The morning that he was supposed to start work, Auston got up far earlier than he really needed to, changed his clothes twice, left a full fifteen minutes early, and ended up sitting in his car for the remaining time while he waited for it to be an acceptable time to go inside. 

Once he did, he ended up filling out forms for a while in the office, writing down all kinds of information about his work visa, and how the government was supposed to tax him. The school had already done a background check on him, so they already had all of his information, but apparently they needed it written down again on a new set of forms. The task, however menial it seemed, did help him calm down, gave him something to focus on other than “Oh god I can’t fuck this up I have to make a good impression I wonder what my coworkers will be like will they like me Christ I hope they like me.”

When he was (finally) done, Dr. Agarwal led him through the halls of the school, pointing out the different classrooms they passed. 

“This is the library, and next to it is the computer lab. Every class does music, library, computer lab, art, and gym once a week every week. To get to a cafeteria you take a left here. You’ll have lunch duty during one lunch one day a week, but I’ll send you that information in an email in a couple of days. There’s a courtyard through these doors, and this is the art room!”

As they turned into the art classroom, Auston saw the back of another man, brown haired and slim, looking out the windows and sitting on a table. He turned around when he heard Auston and Dr. Agarwal come into the classroom, his mouth spreading into a smile. He had the bluest eyes Auston had ever seen on a person and a wide smile that seemed to light up the room. Auston licked his lips nervously as they walked towards each other to shake hands. 

“Mitch Marner,” the man said, his hand warm from the coffee he’d set down as he walked over. Auston shook his hand, hoping it wasn’t too firm of a grip. “Auston Matthews,” he said, quieter than he’d meant. 

Mitch Marner was adorable, especially when he was smiling like that. Good looking in a boyish kind of way, like maybe he played on the lacrosse team (or hockey, to make even more of a Canadian stereotype). He was wearing dark jeans and a flannel that somehow already had a smudge of paint on it. But they were coworkers now, so Auston pushed that set of thoughts out of his head and smiled back, listening while the principal started to talk again. 

“So, I’ll leave you here then. Again, keep a look out in your email for information about lunch duty, your school email, etcetera. I hope you have a good first day, and good luck!” 

“Thank you. I will. Um. Have a good day.”

Then she walked out again, her heels clicking more and more quietly the further she got down the hallway. 

“So, Sydney should be back in just a second, she just ran to the restroom quickly. Technically she’s in charge of you for this week, but we have basically the same job, so you can also ask me any questions you might have. Did you bring a lunch? We can stick it in the fridge if you want.” Mitch said, his speech as cheerful as his smile had been earlier.

“Yeah, I have it just here,” Auston said, offering up a sad Shoppers Drug Mart bag with a peanut butter sandwich and some fruit inside. Mitch led him back through the maze of child-height tables into a small office, which contained two kilns, a pair of facing desks, a mini fridge, a microwave, and a coffee maker, all crammed as tightly together as possible. 

“This one is Sydney’s desk, but it’ll be all yours once she’s gone. Until then you’ll have to make do with a table in the main room, but that should be fine. We’re not really in here that much, especially when the kilns are going, because they heat the room up like nothing else.” As he was speaking, he took Auston’s lunch and stuck it in the fridge, then led him back out into the main room.

“And obviously this is the classroom…the sink is over there, it’s usually almost out of paper towels…we keep all the supplies in those cupboards above the sink and the countertop so the kids can’t reach them…this couch and rocking chair and rug area is where we talk about the projects. They’re usually based in either a book or another artist’s work, so we have this area to show that and explain what they’re going to do…this is the paper cutter, and the kids are absolutely not ever allowed to touch it…Oh! This is Sydney!” Mitch cut off abruptly as another woman walked into the room, blonde and very pretty and also very pregnant.

“Hey Mitch,” she laughed “I could hear you talking a million miles a minute from halfway down the hall.” Then she extended a hand to Auston. “I’m Sydney Esiason. You must be Auston.”

“Wait, how did you know his name?” Mitch interrupted, before Auston could answer.

“Because he’s my replacement! You don’t think Dr. Agarwal mentioned his first name even once?”

Mitch colored a little and laughed. “I guess she must have…I just never heard it.”

Their friendly banter gave Auston confidence that he would be able to fit in here, if coworkers could be this relaxed. “Yeah, I’m Auston. Nice to meet you.” 

Between Sydney and Mitch, they showed Auston the classroom, and explained the Ezra Jack Keats/Snowy Day project the kids were working on at the moment. For the most part, the grades worked on the same basic projects, just at slightly different levels, though there were some materials only the older kids worked with, and some projects that were different among the grade levels so it wasn’t just the same thing every single year. Also, even though there were specific projects for them to work on, the students were encouraged to think creatively within the different media and inspirations. Sydney and Mitch usually switched off classes during each day, with Sydney taking the older kids and Mitch the younger ones, so that they each had breaks during the day, but were still around to help if they needed it.

By the time they had explained everything they were going to do that day and given Auston a cup of coffee (one of their morning rituals), it was almost time for the first set of students to come in, a class of kindergarteners. Auston didn’t have much to do for that one, mostly listening to Sydney explain what projects she usually did at this point in the school year, getting ideas for what to do once she was gone.

The next class was one of Sydney’s, and they were doing printmaking, but instead of using wood or linoleum, they were using styrofoam, which could be carved easily with a skewer or something, instead of sharp tools that would take your finger off if you were nine and not very careful. The kids had been drawing different ideas for designs on paper, and then were supposed to re-draw them on tracing paper so they could transfer them onto the pieces of styrofoam. After setting out the tracing paper, Sydney introduced Auston to the class, and he walked around to talk a little with each of them, try and learn their names. 

One little girl, Insia, was drawing designs of poppies on her tracing paper when he made it over to her table. Another student was doing sharks, and another one an astronaut. They all seemed excited to show him what they were working on, to get his opinion on their drawings. Because of the medium they were mostly simple line drawings, but the one of sharks in particular looked really cool. And they all seemed so happy to talk to him, a vast difference from the grouchy people at the café or the demanding clients he often worked with when freelancing. 

From there it was wild how quickly the time passed. For all Auston had been worried about not being good with the kids, or not knowing what to do, or getting bored too easily, he found he enjoyed what he was doing. Maybe he didn’t enjoy when one of the first graders came up to him with a paint-y hand that she smeared on his pants while he was trying to help her get a new container of soap, but he loved seeing how excited each new group of kids was to come into the art room and work on whatever they were supposed to be doing, mostly projects they’d been working on the previous week. 

At lunch he and Sydney and Mitch ate their lunches sitting on the couch and in the rocking chair, and they grilled him about his life.

“So, you’re American?” Sydney asked. “Me too,” she continued when he nodded. “I moved here with my fiancé when his company transferred him to the Canadian office.”

“I moved here with a boyfriend, and to get my MFA here. But now we broke up and I ended up liking Toronto a lot more than I thought I would. So I’m still here.”

“That’s awesome! It’s fun to know that my replacement will be keeping the American contingent alive, since we can’t all be from Toronto like Mitch.” 

At that Mitch made a face at her that would not have looked out of place on one of the students. “Just because it took you longer to realize that Toronto is the best doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with me having always lived here!”

Auston laughed a little at that, because he was pretty sure Mitch was mostly joking, even if they had just met that day. He really liked Mitch, and not just because he was easy on the eyes. He was also funny, and obviously passionate about teaching, and, if the stuff stuck up on the wall next to his desk was any indicator, not a bad artist either. 

Mitch jabbed Auston in the knee, stopping him from dwelling any longer on how he had looked when he’d been bent down, helping one of his tiniest students to lift her watercolor into the drying rack.

“So, Auston, what do you do besides apparently teach art?”

“Well I take photographs, mostly darkroom, do some freelance work related to that…I like to go running or skating…I don’t really have many friends in the area right now so I talk to my family a fair amount.”

“Wait, you can skate? Where in the US are you from again?”

“Arizona. Since the Coyotes are there there’s a bit of more an industry for kids to play hockey, so I did that a bit when I was growing up, and I just really loved it, even though I haven’t played on a real team in years.”

“Dude! My roommates and I play in a beer league on the weekends, you should totally join! It’s pretty chill, but we’d love to have you! What position do you play?”

“Center mostly, but really, I haven’t played in years. I don’t have all the gear or anything.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we can figure something out if you really want to play!” 

Sydney chimed in then to add, “But no pressure though, right Mitch?”

“Right. Of course not. Only if you want to.” Mitch replied kind of sheepishly. 

At that Auston laughed. “Well, I’d like to, but we’ll see.”

(That’s how Auston ends up meeting up with Mitch and Connor and Dylan and a bunch of their friends to play hockey on the weekends.)  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The first class of the morning was little kids, so mainly Mitch’s responsibility. They were working on that Snowy Day project, and Auston and Mitch had already got out all of the materials, so there wasn’t much to do once the kids arrived but let them get to work. He played music while they worked to give them a little background noise so it wasn’t so silent. Jack Johnson and Friends from the Curious George the Movie soundtrack was one of his favorites, because if you didn’t listen too closely to the lyrics it was almost mistakable for the kind of music he would listen to for fun (So sue him if he’d put it on in his car a few times! He was a grown man and could do what he wanted).

Last week they had been painting paper with different textures (in washable acrylic paint, of course), and starting to cut out some of the shapes to make their pictures, and today was more of that, and gluing. God, gluing. As many times as Mitch recited “just a dot, not a lot” to them, the kids seemed unable to understand that Elmer’s glue went a lot further than one might think, and that soaking the paper in it did not, in fact, help, but just made you and the table and your paper all messy. 

By the end of the period, when the clean up music was playing, most of the students had glued at least some of their pictures down, so there were fewer tiny triangles of paper than there had been before, and with Auston helping to lift the pieces into the drying rack, it went quicker than usual. The kids wiped down the tables, which got a lot of the glue off, but also they were five, so they didn’t exactly do the most thorough job. After they left, Mitch and Auston wiped the tables down again and swept the floor. 

During Sydney’s first class, watching Auston and the kids together was very sweet. Yes, they were coworkers, but that didn’t mean Mitch couldn’t find him cute. He’d just have to keep that to himself and not let it affect how he acted around Auston. And then at lunch when they were talking and he found out that not only was this new employee hot, he was also super nice and interested in men and played hockey, all he could think was, what are the chances? 

The rest of the day passed fairly quickly, and far sooner than he would’ve liked, Mitch found himself saying goodbye to Sydney and Auston and walking to the parking lot to head home. On the drive home, while some Leafs talk show blared in the background, Mitch thought about his day. For all he’d looked to Auston’s arrival with trepidation, he genuinely liked the guy, and not just because he was cute. 

Connor and Dylan read it on his face as soon as he walked in the door. 

“So, New Employee Man wasn’t as awful as you thought he’d be?” 

“Was he cute?”

“Was he good with kids?”

“No, he wasn’t as awful as I thought. He’s not awful at all. Yes he’s cute, and yes he’s good with kids. His name is Auston and I invited him to play hockey with us? He said he played more as a kid but doesn’t really have any gear so I sort of said we could probably scrape some together. He’s probably your height, Dyls, but not so skinny.”

“Wow, you really must like him, then. You haven’t invited someone to hockey in like a year, man,” Connor said, quieter than Dylan but no less irritating in the moment. “Of course we’ll try and find him some stuff.”  
———  
The rest of Sydney’s last week at the school passed incredibly quickly. Mitch was having so much fun with her and Auston that he wished it could just be like that, but Sydney was about ready to burst, and really would be better off at home. On her last day, after all the kids had given her one last hug and gone home, he bid her a somewhat emotional goodbye. 

“It’s just been really great working with you, and I like you a lot, and wish you the best of luck with the baby and everything,” Mitch said, pretending to be a lot more okay than he felt inside. 

“Oh honey, it’s been great working with you too. But we can still see each other even when I’m gone! I like you, and Matt likes you, and I want you to meet the baby when it’s born.”

At that, Mitch felt better, and gave her another (careful) hug before they got into their cars. Yes, he would miss Sydney, but he’d still be able to see her, and he was genuinely excited to be teaching with Auston, and hopefully finding a new friend there. 

It was a Friday, so he didn’t have to get up particularly early in the morning, and ended up ordering a pizza with Connor and Dylan and drinking beer and playing NHL. As great as it was to spend some time with his two best friends, Mitch kept looking over at them sitting too close on the couch and feeling jealous and also a little sorry for himself. They were so happy together, had been dating since university and would probably end up getting married and having a bunch of tall, adorable, hockey loving children together, and living in a big house in some nice suburb somewhere. And he would still be living in this same damn apartment alone for the next billion years and hanging out with hundreds of children who weren’t his.

When his on-screen avatar failed to block a shot it absolutely should have been able to, Dylan looked over at him. 

“Are you okay, man?” he asked, the genuine concern in his voice belying the casual words.

“I’m fine,” Mitch said. “Just, you know, single af.”

“Right. Sorry dude. Do you want a hug?” 

Mitch loved his friends. It’s not every guy, even every gay guy, who will gladly offer up a hug when his friend is feeling down. He pauses the game and scoots over to Dylan, who immediately wraps him in a hug. Connor pauses the game, mutes their tv so it will stop playing the same annoying repetitive music, and joins into the hug. Normally Mitch might feel at least somewhat weird about this, but he was a little drunk, single, and feeling maudlin, so he didn’t question it, just glommed onto Connor and Dylan and dragged them down into a cuddle puddle on the couch. 

“You guys are awesome, you know that?” he said, his lung capacity somewhat decreased by the weight on top of him. 

“Thanks, Mitch. You’re awesome too. You should probably drink some water though, bud.” That had to be Connor, ever the responsible one. 

“Later. Stay here now.” Mitch muttered, his words maybe slightly slurred, grabbing a wrist he thought was Connor’s, pulling him closer.

Dylan laughed. “Okay, we get it. You love to cuddle, we won’t try and stop you.”

So they stayed like that, until Mitch didn’t feel quite so hollow inside and frayed around the edges, until they levered themselves up to drink water and go to bed.  
———  
The next morning, when Mitch was awoken at 8am by Connor knocking on his door, he only half regretted the night before. He got to cuddle, and his hangover was nothing some coffee and Tim Horton’s drive through hash browns on the way to the rink wouldn’t cure. He grabbed his stuff and jammed his feet into a pair of shoes, still acceptably dressed from the day before. 

At hockey, he talked to the other guys about Auston, about seeing if they could dig up any gear they didn’t need anymore, and they all agreed that they’d do it. They didn’t exactly have enough people for a proper team right then, so everyone was always excited about having someone else come play, especially if—

“Wait, Mitch, what position does he play?” someone cried out.

“Uh, he said center,” Mitch replied carefully.

“Dammit. We really need someone to play goalie, because right now we only have Garret, since James moved to Florida, or whatever,” the person replied. Mitch looked up from where he was tying his skates and saw it was Morgan. 

“Alright, well, when someone else goes on maternity leave, I’ll make sure they hire a goalie as her replacement,” Mitch sniped back. He laughed after, to soften his words, but he wasn’t concerned about Morgan taking him seriously. That was just the kind of friends they were.

The conversations stopped as everyone headed out onto the ice, far more excited to play than to hear about whatever guy Mitch may or may not have been going to bring some time in the future.


	3. Chapter 3

Weekends were slow for Auston, especially now that he didn’t have to take on much freelance work he didn’t want to. On Saturday he did a photoshoot for a couple who had just got engaged, hipster enough to want the photos done on film. Developed the film and prints some proofs in his bathroom, which he made over into a darkroom as soon as his ex moved out. (The one good thing about living alone is that now there wasn’t anyone to complain that the room smelled like chemicals, or that it was creepy how dark it was with the windows covered with plywood and black plastic.)

He scrolled absently through Grindr, thought about trying to find someone to hook up with, and then dozed off leaning against his kitchen counter and decided against it when he woke up. Got up the next morning and went running in the park, shoes crunching over freshly laid salt and sand in preparation for the snow they were supposed to be getting later. Thought about Mitch and his hockey game. Came home and showered and called his mother and worked some more on the photos from the engagement shoot, so focused on them he didn’t realize the time until his stomach started growling around 8pm. Cooked some pasta, ate it, dicked around on his phone, went to bed.

A typical two days off. 

———

On Monday morning, Auston was stupidly nervous. It wasn’t as if what he was doing today was vastly different from what he’d been doing the last week, he told himself. He and Sydney had talked about what the kids were going to be doing that week, had worked out a plan, and Mitch would still be there to help out. But he still felt trembly inside as he drove down the DVP, hands tapping restlessly on the steering wheel, one of Spotify’s upbeat pop playlists playing.

He walked into the school, signed in, headed towards the art room still carrying the trembly feeling, still feeling like the bottom was about to drop out of his stomach. When he entered the classroom, though, Mitch was there already, and smiled one of his giant smiles at him.

“Good morning!”

“Hey, Mitch. How are you this morning?”   
“Better than you, from the looks of it. Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just nervous. You know.”

“Yeah, of course. It’s easy for me to forget how worried I was my first day, but I think I almost threw up, to be honest.”

“Wow. Uh, I don’t think that’s going to happen to me.”

Mitch laughed. “I hope not. You look better than I did, though.”

After talking to Mitch, Auston did feel a little better, knowing he wasn’t some kind of crazy nervous wreck in a way that no one else ever was. He went into the office, stuck his lunch in the fridge. For the first time, settled his messenger bag on the chair at his new desk. He’d brought a picture of his family and a couple photo’s he’d taken in Arizona to stick up on the wall next to his desk, and took a few minutes to do that, to settle in to the space. Mitch had brewed a pot of coffee, so Auston filled up his mug and walked back out into the classroom. 

Mitch looked up from where he was setting out small balls of clay and smiled again. Always the smiling with him, apparently. 

“So how was your weekend? Did you get up to anything exciting?” he asked.

“No,” Auston replied. “Mostly just working, freelance stuff, you know?”

“Oh. Was it at least fun?”

“Yeah, as fun as it ever is. I was doing engagement photos, for someone’s wedding invitation, you know? And brides can get a little demanding, but this one was pretty laid back. They wanted the photos done on film, something about the process being more like, organic or genuine or something, so I was holed up in my bathroom most of the weekend. Fuckin’ hipsters, man.”

At that, Mitch laughed a little, and then said “That sounds cool though. Not many people these days are looking for that sort of thing.”

“No, they aren’t, and it’s really my speciality. Like, I’ve done digital same as anyone else, but I prefer to be in the darkroom when I can. They aren’t wrong about how much more involved the process can be. Obviously you can’t do as many different types of modifications on the photos, but if you’re okay with that, it’s really cool to be so hands on with what you’re doing, and really sort of go back to the idea of a photographic truth, you know?” Auston paused then, realizing most people didn’t care that much about the merits of darkroom versus digital photography, even if they were artists. Mitch wasn’t a photographer—he tended to work more in oils and charcoal, from what Auston had seen on the wall above his desk. “Anyway, though, what did you do this weekend?”

“Oh, not much. I had a night in with my roommates on Friday, just playing video games, that kind of thing. They’re in a relationship, so it can be kind of weird sometimes, just cause they’re so obviously together, you know? And then there was hockey on Saturday and that’s always fun. I didn’t really do much else besides that, I guess.”

As Mitch spoke, Auston’s heart sank. He should have known that the attractive, hockey playing, good Canadian art teacher would have some fault. He was uncomfortable around his roommates. His gay roommates. Of course, there was a huge difference between “I hate gay people” and “I don’t like seeing my male friends make out in front of me.” They still had to be civil and work together, so Auston tried to push it out of his mind. It was just another reason not to be attracted to Mitch, beyond the already-persuasive “He’s my coworker.”

Nevertheless, he managed to get out “That sounds cool, though. Chill.” in a fairly normal voice.

“Yeah, it really was. Hey, so I talked to the guys about having you come play with us some week, and they all agreed to help look for some gear you can have. It might cost you something, but not near as much as it otherwise would. I’ll let you know.”

“Wow, thanks. That was quick. Definitely do let me know what ends up working out, I’d love to come some weekend.”

“Yeah, of course. If you give me your number I can text you details when I know them?”

“Sounds good.” 

They exchange numbers and finish their coffee just in time to go stand out in the hallway and watch the kids file into their classrooms for the day. All the students go to their actual classrooms first thing, to put their stuff away and hear the morning announcements, but one class comes into the art room not long after, more of the littlest kids. Everyone is working on a ceramics project right now, but the littlest kids are just making whatever they want, because they’re kind of too young to understand doing much more than that. When Auston has a group next, he’s going to show them how to make little pinch pots. Nothing too complicated, because the more complex bowls in clay tend to involve a pottery wheel, but the pots will be cute and easy to make. 

The main downside to ceramics, though, is that it’s messy. The little kids all have to wear big smocks over their clothes, but most of them still manage to get clay somewhere it doesn’t belong. And the tables! It hardly seems worth it to wipe them down after each class, except that Auston knows if they don’t, layers of partially dried clay will just build up and that’ll be even harder to clean. He groans at the idea that they’re doing this with every class, all week and next. 

The kids think it’s fun though. Every time a new group enters the room, they all seem to let out a collective noise of excitement. Auston’s pinch pot tutorial goes over well, even if it does take more time than he’d expected, almost the entire class time devoted to him demonstrating and re-demonstrating the steps. That was one of the things that had surprised him most about teaching—the amount of time it took for the students to get things that seemed simple to him. It was easy to forget, with his years and years of art education, that it hadn’t always been so easy for him, that there had been a time when he’d really struggled with the most basic concepts, especially when it was something he hadn’t had much prior experience with. 

At lunch, Auston had his first day of lunch duty, which apparently just involved standing in the cafeteria watching the kids to make sure no one broke any of the many rules. No sharing food, no talking for the first fifteen minutes of lunch, no cutting in line, no knives (even plastic ones), no buying more than one dessert in the lunch line, no using the microwave…he vaguely remembered some of them from his own elementary school, but it all seemed so distant now. He heated his lunch in the microwave, which was apparently for teachers only, and ate it standing up as he walked around the room.

When the day was over, Mitch and Auston wiped all the tables down again, scraping at stubborn bits of dried clay. The kids had set aside their pots to dry to leather hard before they could be fired, each within its own section of a grid drawn onto a lunch tray, and labelled with the student’s name. The trays covered a large part of the counter, and this was only one-fifth of the classes, so they moved some of the trays into the little office to make room for the ones that would be filled the next day. All their clean up finally finished, they said goodbye and went home.

———

As he was sitting at home, eating a late dinner and watching the Leafs dominate the Avs, his phone buzzed with a text from Mitch. 

[From: Mitch Marner, 7:43pm] So, if u wanted to come to hockey this saturday, ppl said they’d bring any stuff they had and u can see if it works out? We play at 9, I can txt u directions to where if that works.

Even if he had been put off by Mitch’s comment about his roommates that morning, Auston did still really want to play hockey and meet some people who weren’t his coworkers. Plus, it would be cool to meet some gay people like Mitch’s roommates—he’d kind of avoided the entire scene since he broke up with his ex, too afraid of running into him or one of the friends who’d dropped him when they broke up.

[To: Mitch Marner, 7:46pm] Sounds good. lmk the address and I’ll be there.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mitch noticed that Auston was a little cold towards him after they finished drinking their coffee, and wondered what he could have done to cause it. It’d seemed like they’d been getting along really well, and he didn’t want to lose that. Maybe he’d been too obvious with how he was into Auston and it had freaked him out? Just because a dude was gay didn’t mean he wanted to date any other gay dude he met, and Mitch respected that. In any case, he pushed through the day, trying to act like everything was normal and fine. When Auston was at lunch duty, he texted a little with Dylan, just random emojis that he felt expressed the situation—a bunch of different frown faces, the cactus emoji, the paper clip emoji.

[From: Stromer, 12:17pm] U ok?

[To: Stromer, 12:17pm] Not rlly, auston’s being weird and i feel bad but its w/e

[From: Stromer, 12:18pm] Ok if yr sure. U know I'm here for u.

[To: Stromer, 12:18pm] <3 thanks man

———

When he got home that afternoon, he headed straight for Connor and Dylan, who were cooking some kind of chicken with lemon sauce and being cute. As per usual, what he told one was almost immediately known by the other, and they both looked up at him when he came in, concern in their eyes. 

“Hi guys,” Mitch began, a little glumly.

“Hey yourself, Marns,” Dylan said, smiling at him. “You feeling any better?”

“I was, because the kids were working on ceramics today, and they were all having a fun time and it was really cute to watch, but then on the drive home I couldn’t stop thinking about whatever I did to make Auston feel weird, and now I feel kind of shitty again.” 

“That sucks. Do you want a hug?”

Mitch nodded, and Dylan left Connor’s side to come over and give him a long hug, their fronts pressed together and Mitch’s head tucked under Dylan’s chin. He was soft and warm, but not as solid as Auston would have been, Mitch thought. When he let go after a long minute, he did feel a little better. 

“So, what are you guys cooking for dinner? Can I have any?”  
This time it was Connor who answered. “Yeah, totally. It’s called chicken française. My mom sent me the recipe, I guess she found it on Pinterest or something, said it was really easy and we should try it. There’s also going to be some kind of rice thing…I don’t really know, that part came from a box. If you wanted to make a salad, that’d be great.”

“Cool. It smells really good,” Mitch said. He went over to the fridge and started pulling out greens and a cucumber for the salad. 

———

When they were finished eating, it was almost time for the Leafs game to start, so Mitch went into the living room and put on the pregame. Dylan had to go teach some kind of exercise class that evening, so he wouldn’t be there, but Connor and Mitch were going to watch it together. 

Close to the end of the first period, Mitch was tagged in a post in their hockey Facebook group, agreeing that people should bring any extra gear they might have for Auston when they played on Saturday, and he could look at it then. Mitch texted Auston to ask if that was okay, and when he quickly immediately responded in the affirmative, Mitch felt a bit better about the day’s awkwardness. Clearly he hadn’t completely wrecked things, if Auston was still down to hang out outside of work. That bolstered Mitch’s mood, as did the Leafs 3-0 lead, and he curled up against Connor to watch the rest of the game.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

The rest of the week flew by for Auston. When he’d worked at the café, every hour had dragged past, stretching into weeks that felt like decades, weeks that blurred into each other and scraped past at the rate of a snail for the entire time he worked there. At the school, though, every week was different. Even within the weeks, different classes were working on different things, and he was just getting to know the children in them, so that was new and exciting too. The work was much more challenging than making people’s drinks and bringing them to them, and while it did tire him out by the end of the day, so had the café. It was just so much more rewarding to watch these tiny people doing their thing, and never screaming at you when their latte was only hot, and not extra hot. 

On Saturday morning he got up early to make the drive over to the outdoor rink where he was meeting up with Mitch and his friends. Not sure exactly what it was going to be like, he dressed in basic workout clothes, brought his coffee in the car, and drove out to the suburbs.

The address that Mitch gave him led him to a small rink, a little run down, the parking lot cracking in places but with several cars already there. He parked and got out of the car, spotting Mitch standing with two other guys in front of another car.

“Hey!” he called out, his face split by a wide grin.

“Hey, Mitch,” Auston replied, somewhat less loudly. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, even as he tried to play it cool, get his expression under control.

The shorter blonde guy held out a hand as Auston approached. “Hi, I’m Connor,” he said. Auston shook the offered hand. “Auston, but I guess Mitch has probably told you that.”

Connor laughed a little. “Yeah, he may have mentioned you once or twice.”

Auston then turned to look at the other guy, who was a few inches taller, with dark hair and a pointed nose. 

“Dylan,” the guy said, shaking his hand. 

Together they headed inside, the other three all toting big bags, Mitch keeping up a steady stream of commentary.

“So, one of the guys we play with, his dad owns this place so they let us play here pretty cheap and not really organized or anything. We could join a league or something, but that costs more and we don’t all have time for it, so we tend to just do this, just some friends, a lot more casual. Everybody’s really chill. And it’s nice to have somewhere that’s indoors because we don’t have to worry about snow or anything…”

The gear situation was sorted out quickly, everyone being way more generous than Auston ever would have expected. People made quick, informal introductions, but mostly were focused on getting changed and ready to go. Once they were out on the ice, Mitch explained briefly that they took turns either being captains and picking teams or being referees, but that if you stuck around long enough, everyone got a chance to be a captain, and that no one had to be a referee every time. 

Auston introduced himself briefly, feeling incredibly uncomfortable, and then tried to fade into the background for the rest. Not unsurprisingly, he was picked pretty late, because no one knew if he’d be any good at all. He ended up on a team with Mitch, probably because Mitch kept whispering to the captain of their team, Morgan, and gesturing towards Auston. After they picked teams, they all took a minute to organize lines, and Auston was assigned to center a line with Mitch on the right and a guy a couple years older than them, Zach, on the left. 

Playing with them was really something. Of course he was rusty, since he hadn’t played seriously or regularly since he lived in Arizona. But it was just fun and uncomplicated, the ice smooth under his skates and the air just cool enough to take the edge off how warm he was getting. He even scored a goal, unexpected, off of a beautiful pass from Mitch. Supposedly no one was keeping score, but of course several people really were, and their team won, mostly because the goalie for the other team was actually a forward they just gave a goalie mask to. 

Who won didn’t seem to matter, though. Everyone looked happy as they were walking back into the dressing room, chirping each other good naturedly. As Auston was coming back from the shower, he overheard someone ribbing Mitch in particular.

“So,” the voice said “is that your new boyfriend?” Whoever it was stretched the y sound out, like a middle school boy teasing his sister.

“No, you asshole, it’s not like that!” Mitch replied, laughing despite his words.

“Are you sure?” a different voice chimed in. “Cause I’m pretty sure you were the human embodiment of the heart eyes emoji when he scored off your pass.”

“Oh my god, I’m a grown man, not a thirteen year old girl.” Mitch said, whining a little. 

“Doesn’t mean you can’t have a crush on him, Marns,” said a third person, just as Auston was walking into the room. They all looked at him briefly and shut up in the face of Mitch scowling at them. 

“This was really fun, but I should probably get going. It’s about time for me to head back, if I want to have lunch at a reasonable time.” Auston said, thinking wait, is Mitch actually gay? Or, interested in men? Why did he say that shit about his roommates then? but trying to pretend he hadn’t heard anything.

At that, Mitch looked at him a little disappointedly, and Connor said “If you want to eat with us, you’re welcome to. Me and Dylan and Mitch usually go out to get something afterwards, if you want to come with.”

Auston was surprised at the invitation, because Connor hadn’t seemed particularly enthusiastic about meeting him. Maybe he was just shy, though. He dressed quickly, and got ready to head out with Mitch and his roommates. As soon as he’d accepted, Mitch had offered to ride in his car and give him directions to the restaurant they were going to for brunch. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Auston tapped his fingers nervously against the steering wheel and tried not to look like he was freaking out nearly as much as he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the last chapter, I mentioned Garret (who was supposed to be Garret Sparks) playing hockey with Mitch et al, and now he’s been called up to the Leafs. I definitely did not see that coming. Also, since this technically takes place in the future, but only sort of, the Leafs actual schedule and players means nothing, I guess? 
> 
> Other things I have never done in my life (besides teach at a Canadian private school) include playing pickup hockey. The details of this are probably wrong, please forgive me. I borrowed from my knowledge of pickup soccer when I could, and hopefully it holds up at least somewhat? 
> 
> I'm glad to see so many people have been reading/subscribing, and I love it when people comment and leave kudos, so thank you so much for doing that! (:


	4. Chapter 4

The drive to the restaurant was less awkward than Auston had been expecting. When Mitch got in, Auston waved vaguely at the aux cord that dangled from his stereo and said, trying to sound casual, “You can play music, or whatever, if you want.”

Mitch immediately plugged his phone on, and fiddled around a little bit, before “Shut Up and Dance” blared through the speakers. 

“I know it’s such a white people stereotype,” he began “but I honestly really love this song.”

Auston smiled, already nodding his head to the beat. “Me too, though! My little sister has this playlist that’s just called a smiley face, and this is the first song on it, and she puts it on every time we’re in the car together.” 

From there, conversation flows naturally as they talk about Walk the Moon and music in general. It turns out they have fairly similar taste, and when Auston mentions that he actually prefers to listen to podcasts while he’s driving to work, Mitch is quick to jump in with “Me too! What ones do you like?”

“Well, even though I grew up a Coyotes fan, I’ve been becoming more and more of a Leafs fan since I moved to Toronto, and I’ve been really into this podcast—”

“Oh my god! Wait, wait, it’s not the Steve Dangle Podcast, is it?”

“It totally is! Do you like it too?”

“I do! I actually went to one of their meet ups a couple of months ago, it was really cool!”

They were still talking about Steve Dangle when Mitch directed Auston to park in front of a row of older two-story brick buildings with big plate glass windows. They went into the one on the end, which had “Kindred” painted on the front in a sort of old fashioned block font. The interior was bright and white, one wall covered in shiny tile and the other exposed. A long bar took up most of the left half of the space, thick marble countertop and cognac leather seats stretching the length of the dining room. The other side had a long bench covered in the same leather and warm brown wooden chairs set on either side of small marble topped tables. The hostess smiled at Mitch when they walked in and pointed him towards a table in the front window, where Dylan and Connor were already seated across from each other. 

Mitch slid onto the bench beside Dylan, squeezing carefully between their table and the next, leaving Auston to take a seat next to Connor. 

“Hey guys,” Mitch said. “How did you get here before us?”

“Maybe because we didn’t take the long way here to be able to talk longer, you nerd,” Dylan chirped. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you turning too early, we were right behind you.”

Mitch colored, and there was a pause before he said “Well, maybe I just forgot the shortcut.”

“Okay, Mitch, whatever you say.”

Auston broke into the conversation before it got too awkward to ask “So, what’s good here?” That was clearly the right thing to say, because the other three all had an opinion. 

“Well, I usually get this thing, it’s like an open-faced sandwich with avocado and egg—”

“I really like their Belgian waffles, they come with fruit and whipped cream and—”

“They have a sort of deconstructed Caesar salad type thing that comes on whole wheat toast,”

The waitress, young and blonde and leggy and entirely the wrong sort of person to draw any eyes at their table, arrived to take their drink orders in the midst of this, and didn’t seem at all surprised by the commotion. 

Connor ordered a coffee and a water, but Dylan and Mitch both asked for mimosas, and Mitch leaned across to whisper, faux-conspiratorially, “They’re great here, you should totally get one.” Temporarily distracted by the smell of Mitch’s body wash, or something, Auston didn’t fully process that it was his turn to order for a second, and looked a little silly. When he realized why they were all staring at him, though, he was quick to get out, “Another of those, please. Uh, and a water?”

The waitress jotted that down and hurried away, as the restaurant was filling up quickly. Clearly they’d arrived just before the brunch rush started. Auston took advantage of the lull in conversation to look at the menu for the first time. He saw the aforementioned avocado sandwich, waffles, and Caesar salad (which did come on toast, and with whole anchovies), along with several other slightly eclectic versions of things he’d heard of, and a few things he hadn’t. After some deliberation, because everything sounded delicious, he decided on something called shakshuka, which claimed to have tomatoes and eggs and come in a miniature skillet. 

When he tuned back into the conversation, the other three seemed to be talking about the game they’d just been at, discussing who had been there and who hadn’t, and how the teams had worked out that day. 

“The other Connor wasn’t there today, and I was sad about it. He’s chill.”

“Neither was Ryan. I think he said he had some family thing or something, I don’t really know, but I was hoping to see him.”

“Who?” Auston asked.

“Connor is someone Mitch knows, from university, I think, and Ryan goes to school with me. They both usually come on Saturdays, so if you come again you’ll probably meet them.” Connor said quietly, underneath Dylan and Mitch’s chatter.

“Cool. I’d really like to come again, that was a lot of fun.”

Mitch had clearly been listening, because at that he said “You totally should! I really enjoyed playing on a line with you.”

“Me too. Good chemistry, for sure.”

In the middle of a too-long pause where Dylan and Connor were looking at each other meaningfully, the waitress arrived to bring them their drinks and take their orders. Unsurprisingly, Connor, Dylan, and Mitch each ordered the dish they’d recommended to Auston. After she left, the conversation moved to work, and Auston heard about Connor’s law program and Dylan’s gym, and in turn he and Mitch talked about what they’d been doing with their students. The mimosas were as good as Mitch had claimed, and Auston had to remind himself he was driving, and needed to stick to probably one drink. 

Connor and Dylan were interested to hear about Auston’s art, and some of what he had been doing in terms of freelance work recently.

“It’s just so different from what Marns does, you know? Like we thought we had this idea of what artists or art teachers were like, and then you show up and you don’t really fit into that.” Dylan explained.

“Well, I never planned to be a teacher. I needed a job and this one came along. I definitely did not expect to love it nearly as much as I do.” 

“That’s cool though! Not everyone takes the same path to get somewhere, but what’s really important is that you love what you do, and it has really seemed like you do.” Mitch said. 

The food, when it arrived, was delicious. Auston’s shakshuka was spicy and intensely cumin-y, eggs soft but cooked through, just the way he liked them. It had come with some toasted challa bread, which was great dipped into the tomato sauce. It was certainly not a traditional breakfast food, but barely anything on the menu was, and it was so good he didn’t care. The conversation flowed freely as they ate, not just small talk about jobs, but about all kinds of topics.   
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Mitch was so glad to be at brunch with Auston. He had the best ideas (even if this one was technically Connor’s). Auston was getting along with his friends, and talking to them all was so much fun, and having another person there helped take his mind off the way Connor and Dylan were holding hands across the table. Their plates had been cleared a couple minutes ago, and the checks were going to be coming soon, but Mitch didn't want to have to break this up when he was enjoying this so much. He was also full of waffles and mimosa, and maybe a little bit tipsy and sleepy. Whatever, he knew he wouldn’t have to drive anywhere. 

“So,” he began, as people were pulling out their credit cards. “What are we doing next?”

“Well,” Connor said slowly, “I want to go home and watch a football game. The Steelers are playing this afternoon, but I’m not wedded to the idea, if you have something you want to do.”

“No, that’s okay, I’d watch that too. Auston, what are you doing?”

“Uhh, nothing?” he said, scratching his ear awkwardly. “Going home, maybe finishing up the stuff from that engagement shoot. I’m meeting with the couple tomorrow, I should have things all ready for them, but I’m basically done.”

“Do you want to come over? We can watch football, if that’s something you’re interested in.”

“I don’t want to impose, you’ve already invited me to do a lot today…”

“It wouldn’t be an imposition,” said Dylan. “You seem cool, and if you wanna hang out then we totally should. I know you see Mitch like every single day, but I just met you and it’d be cool to hang out some more.”

“Well, in that case, I guess yeah, I’d like to hang out for a bit.” 

Mitch smiled at that. “Rad! I can ride with you again and show you the way to our place.”

———

They get to their house, a little white one-story on a shady street, a couple hours before the kickoff, and decide to play video games while they wait. Mitch liked this plan, because he was great at video games, and was very into them as well. They only had three controllers, so one person was always left watching, which meant there was a steady stream of conversation and chirping, as well as game playing. At one point, Connor and Auston seemed to have wandered away, but Mitch didn’t think anything of it. He was winning at NHL, and was having too much fun teasing Dylan to be super concerned about the other two. 

At least, that was, until Dylan paused the game but didn’t mute it, and set down his controller to look at him.

“So, dude, you totally like him,” he said, keeping his voice down a little. 

“No I don’t!” Mitch protested. “He’s my coworker, that would be inappropriate.”

“Clearly that’s not enough to stop you from liking him! And also, you’re not his boss, so it’s not that inappropriate, is it? Like, don’t be a creep, obviously, but also it’s not like you’re in charge of him or anything.” 

“Just because he’s gay doesn’t mean he wants to get with me! You’re gay, you should know this! And I’ve only known him for like two weeks.”

“Exactly! You’ve only known him for two weeks and he’s already in our house, preparing to spend almost an entire day with you! Most people don’t want to do that with people they’ve just met. No offense to you, of course, you know I think you’re great.”

“I guess, but he could just be lonely? I know he mentioned he doesn’t have that many friends here.”

“So? Like you could be totally right and he could not be interested at all, but you don’t know that. Don’t be defeatist.”

“I just don’t want to get my hopes up, you know? Like, I do like him, but I like a lot of people, and they don’t usually feel the same way.”

“Okay, Mitch, that’s fair.” Dylan hugged him. “But I still think you should go for it, if things continue in this direction.” He unpaused the game and picked up his controller again. “Now come on, there’s still a period left of this, I could still kick your ass.”

“Like hell you will!”

And that was that. They went back to playing, Mitch silently hoping they hadn’t been loud enough for Auston to hear them, and didn’t mention it again for the rest of the afternoon. 

———

The game, when it finally began, was fine. Mitch wasn’t a huge fan of American football, but sports were sports, and Connor usually tried to catch a game on slow weekend afternoons, so he knew what was going on and everything. Apparently when Auston and Connor had disappeared earlier, it had been to go in the kitchen and fix some different snacks, guacamole and salsa and beer. The food was good, and the game was good, and Mitch was on his way to tipsy again, and was smushed between Auston and Dylan on the couch and feeling sleepy. He had intended to just lean his head back a little bit, to look at the ceiling during a commercial break, but then the next thing he knew, he was all warm and blinking and the score was very different from what he remembered. He was leaned up against something soft that smelled good, spicy and clean.

He started to speak, but no sound came out. He cleared his throat and tried again, saying “Did I fall asleep?”

Auston smiled and looked down at where Mitch had been dozing on his shoulder. “Yeah bud, you did.”

“Ugh, sorry I slept on you, then.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it. You obviously needed the rest.” 

The inside of Mitch’s mouth tasted like death, and he groped in front of him for something to drink. Auston pushed a glass of water into his mouth, and that helped a lot. Without really meaning to, they stayed that way for the rest of the game, a little cuddled up together, Mitch’s feet tucked up underneath him. It was really nice, and made Mitch long for something he didn’t feel like he could have. 

The Steelers ended up winning the game, much to Connor’s excitement, and his jumping up as they scored the winning touchdown jerked Mitch out of his contented thoughts. When the game was over, Mitch regretfully levered himself up off the couch, uncurling from his position next to Auston, feeling cold without his solid warmth next to him.

“I guess you ought to go now, if you have work to do before tomorrow.” he said quietly.

“Yeah, I should. Thank you so much for having me over, this was really nice.”

“Anytime, seriously. It was great to hang out.”

“It was. Your roommates seem cool.”   
“They are. We’ve been friends since high school, they know me better than anyone. I’m glad you guys got along.”

“Yeah, me too. Anyway, I’ll see you at school on Monday, and I’ll be at hockey again next week.” Auston wrapped Mitch in a hug, a little lingering, Mitch’s head underneath his chin. “Thanks again. See you.”

“Yep, see you Monday.”   
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

As they were finishing up their food, Auston started thinking about what else he had to do that day, not particularly looking forward to his empty apartment and the work he should be doing. When Mitch invited him back to watch some football, his heart jumped a little in his chest. Of course he’d like to hang out some more. Trying to be polite, he started to decline, when Dylan jumped in. Knowing he wouldn’t be interfering with Connor and Dylan’s plans, he felt less guilty saying yes. 

The drive over to Mitch’s house is nice, both of them jumping back into their discussion of Steve Dangle from their previous drive.

“Wait, so who’s your favorite on the podcast?” Mitch asked.

“Jesse, absolutely! Like, I know he doesn’t talk very much, but whenever he does, he always seems to have the funniest things to say. What about you?”

“Steve, obviously! Like, it’s his show, if I didn’t like him I wouldn’t be listening.”

They bickered, friendly-like, about Steve and Jesse, and were both so into it that Mitch almost forgot to point out one of their turns. When they pulled up to the house, Auston felt a little pang of longing. It was cute, suburban and obviously lived-in, the kind of place Auston wanted to live in with a family someday. The living room they headed into was painted a sort of neutral beige, like they’d never bothered to change the color, and was taken up mostly by an old, squashy looking grey sectional shaped like an L. 

They played video games for a while before the game starts, and Mitch was obviously way more excited about that than Auston. Sure, he enjoyed video games, but he hadn’t really played many video games since he left home, not being able to afford a proper gaming system or anything. He played for a little while, but kept losing pretty badly, sometimes to Mitch, sometimes to Connor or Dylan. When Connor got up to go fix something to eat during the game, Auston was happy to get up and go help him. 

As he sliced up a red onion, Auston asked “So, how long have you and Dylan been together?”

“Since university. We’ve known each other longer than that, but we didn’t really get our act together that we should be dating until our third year there.” Connor replied, a little smile on his face.

“Well, you seem really happy together. I haven’t had something like that in a while. My ex and I broke up last year, but things hadn’t been good for a while before that.”

“That’s too bad. Mitch either, you know. He tries to hide it, but I know he’s lonely sometimes. We keep trying to set him up with different guys, but it hasn’t really been working out.” Connor seemed to realize he’d said something pretty personal about Mitch, and went back to where he’d been dicing avocados. 

The rest of their conversation was much lighter, just about cooking, and what it was like to be the one who could actually cook in the relationship. 

“Well, my ex was pretty bad at cooking, and that’s just as well at this point, because I have to cook for myself all the time anyway.”

“Yeah, Stromer isn’t really any good in the kitchen either. He tries, which I greatly appreciate, but it doesn’t always work out super well, so I wind up doing most of the heavy lifting in this department. Marns can kind of cook, I think but I genuinely enjoy this, so I don’t mind doing it.”

“I feel that! There’s just something calming about doing this, the way the smells and flavors and colors can be grounding. If I’m working in the darkroom, it kind of feels like time can just escape from me, because the temperature and light conditions are so consistent, so I sometimes feel a little weird when I’m done in there. Cooking helps bring everything back into the moment.”

“That makes a lot of sense! I like it because it’s something I have to do, and so while I’m cooking I don’t have to worry about how I should be studying or anything, because I need to cook to keep on living.”

They carried the snacks and beer out into the living room again, and settled in to watch the game. Mitch, who must have been kind of a lightweight, got tipsy again fairly quickly and fell asleep, turning in towards Auston when he does. Auston felt similarly to how he did when a cat sat on his lap, like he needed to stay still so the creature wouldn’t be startled and run away. Mitch was warm against his shoulder, soft and just as good smelling as he had been in the restaurant. He leaned back even further into the couch cushions, trying to savor the moment as much as possible.

Over Mitch’s head, Dylan gave him a Look, one that said a lot of things all rolled into one, some of which Auston wasn’t really sure how to interpret. On the surface it was sort of “aww, cute,” but it seemed like there was more there, particularly in the way his gaze lingered on them. He didn’t say anything right away, but after a moment, softly said “Look, I know it’s not really my business, but he’s a great guy, and I want to see him happy.” Dylan didn’t provide any further explanation for the statement, just stretched an arm around Connor to pull him close, and went back to watching the football game.

Mitch woke up after about thirty minutes, when a Steelers touchdown caused Connor to shout excitedly. Auston assumed he’d change positions when he drank some water, but instead he returned to the way they’d been sitting earlier. As long as Auston didn’t dwell too much on it, it was nice and uncomplicated and soft, and the good feelings it brought buoyed him up, all the way through the rest of the game and his long drive home and his suddenly empty-seeming apartment. 

After the casual familiarity he’d seen between Connor and Mitch and Dylan, his own solitary set of rooms seemed so lonely, something he hadn’t felt in months. He’d grown used to the silence of living alone, hadn’t much missed having someone around, until that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The other Connor" and Ryan are Connor Brown and Ryan Nugent Hopkins. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has commented/left kudos! (:


	5. Chapter 5

The rest of Auston’s weekend was just as he’d imagined it. When he got home from Mitch’s, he went straight into the darkroom and finished the prints for his clients, and then came back out to scan them all. He ate some leftover pasta he had in his fridge, sat absently staring at the tv for a while, and then went to bed. The next day he went running in the park, showed the prints to his clients, came home and worked on their project some more, sat around and looked at shit on the internet, called his mom, watched a hockey game, ate the rest of his leftover pasta, and slept some more.

The next few weeks were, to put it shortly, amazing. Working at the school was so rewarding, and the longer Auston was there, the more he got his feet under him, and the easier it got. The commute was longer than he would’ve liked, but he barely noticed it, because he was just so genuinely excited to go to work every day. For someone who had never liked kids very much, he found himself liking his students an awful lot. They were all unique, miniature people, and the things he’d thought he hated about kids, like that they were bratty, and messy, and too loud, didn’t seem true about this kids. Maybe it was because they were older, or because they were at school, or because he was so invested in them, but whatever the reason, he was so happy to be working with them.

Mitch was great, too. He was helpful at the school, always around to help clean up or set out supplies or just assist kids who needed it. They kept playing hockey together on the weekends, and that was fantastic. The more Auston played, the more he wanted to, and the more he fell back into familiar patterns he’d thought he’d forgotten. He and Mitch kept ending up on a team together after the second time, when everyone seemed to realize that they had great chemistry, and that they were far stronger together than they would be apart. The second week, Mitch didn’t invite him out to brunch again, and Auston was a little saddened, but mostly resigned to the idea that they really couldn’t, and shouldn’t spend all day every day together, and figured the first time had just been a special occasion.

The next Friday, though, he got a text from an unknown number.

[From: Unknown, 8:43pm] Brunch tomorrow? You can pick the place.

[To: Unknown, 8:50pm] Who is this, sorry?

[From: Unknown, 8:52pm] Oh sorry dude, it’s Connor. I got your number from Mitch, I hope that’s okay.

[To: Connor McDavid, 8:56pm] No, it’s fine. Brunch sounds good, but I don’t want to bother if that’s, like, you guys’ thing.

[From: Connor McDavid, 8:59pm] You wouldn’t be. We wouldn’t invite you otherwise. And seriously, you should pick the place. We always go to the same one anyway.

[To: Connor McDavid, 9:01pm] I don’t really know anywhere good to eat in the area, so you all might as well choose again.

[From: Connor McDavid, 9:01pm] Okay. We’ll meet you after hockey, then. See you tomorrow.

[To: Connor McDavid, 9:03pm] Cool

So, that bunch hadn’t been a one time thing? Wild, Auston thought. As it turned out, they ended up having brunch together every Saturday after that, and sometimes hanging out together after, at Mitch and Connor and Dylan’s house. School and hockey and time blurred together into a new routine, all filled with Mitch everywhere he turned.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

One Saturday in March, Connor and Dylan didn’t come to hockey, stuck going to some kind of family function at one of their parents’ houses. After the game, Auston invited Mitch to come back into the city to have brunch.

“We can order in, or something. I just think it’d be cool for you to see my place, and it’s not that I wouldn’t want Connor or Dylan there, just that you all seem to have your thing, and I’d hardly want to mess with that.”

“Sounds cool. What type of food were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, maybe Thai?”

“Cool.”

Mitch followed him back to his apartment, parked in one of the guest spaces nearby. Auston’s apartment was on the third floor, and surprisingly nice. The furniture was obviously a lot of IKEA, all in shades of white and grey and black wood. It wasn’t huge, just a big living area and a small kitchen, with a bedroom and bathroom down a short hallway. The windows were cracked, even though it wasn’t warm out, and Auston hurried to shut them as they came in.

“Sorry, I tend to keep the windows open for the ventilation, because it really isn’t ideal, with the chemicals, you know?”

Mitch did not know. “What?”

“Well, I converted the bathroom into a temporary darkroom, and the chemical fumes are supposed to be removed, and the bathroom fan doesn’t really do a satisfactory job, so I leave the windows open.”

“Oh, right, I guess you mentioned that.”

Auston called in an order for their food, and then showed Mitch around.    
“It isn’t much, but it’s plenty for me,” he said apologetically, as they walked towards the bathroom. “I have this set up as a darkroom right now, cause I was up kind of late last night just working on some stuff, if you want to see?”

“Sure,” Mitch said.

With the door open, the bathroom looked a little weird. An enlarger was set up on a card table card table crammed into the corner, and a long piece of plywood cover the bathtub, turning it into a work surface rather than an open basin, and trays of chemicals were laid out on top of that. Pieces of yarn were strung between the tap and the towel rack, with prints clothespinned up to try. The lights in the fixture had been exchanged for red bulbs, and the windows were totally covered over. As Mitch looked at the finished prints, Auston put away the chemicals, pouring away the chemicals or putting them into big jugs under the card table.

The room was full of the tang of chemicals, something Mitch had smelled on Auston before without realizing it. It was heady and strange, the air warm and thick with the scent. The prints that were hung up were all iterations of one photograph at various exposures and levels of contrast, showing the reflection of an older building in the perfect shiny glass of a brand new skyscraper.

“This is really cool,” Mitch said, his head tilted sideways to look at a particular print. “Is it for a client?”

“No, it’s just something I’ve been working on lately. I’m really interested in architectural photography, Todd Eberle, Berenice Abbot, Iwan Baan, that type of thing, and so that’s a part of an ongoing series about the interaction between old and new interventions in an urban context.”

Seeing Auston in his own space was fascinating. He was so confident there, his shoulders straighter and smile easier, in a way that exposed some of the lack of comfort Mitch hadn’t even recognized in other spaces. Clearly this tiny space, blacked out windows and creepy red bulbs and chemical smell and all, was where he was clearly at home. Mitch almost couldn’t handle it, the rush of feelings he felt at seeing Auston like this, so he was relieved, in a way, when Auston’s phone rang, breaking the moment.

“Our food is here, so I’m just going to run down and grab that, if you wanted to try and find something on tv?”

———

As if Mitch going to Auston’s apartment had broken some kind of barrier between them, their relationship took another step forward after that day. They sat close on the couch again as they watched Netflix and ate Thai, started snapchatting each other every day, texted even when they didn’t have something particular to talk about. It was getting harder and harder for Mitch to push away his romantic feelings for Auston, but at the same time he was so happy to finally have someone who got him the way Auston did. He no longer had to feel like the third wheel to Connor and Dylan, because they increasingly encouraged him to invite Auston when they were going to do something together. Romantic or not, Mitch felt fulfilled by their relationship in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time, and he was loving it.  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

When the kids had spring break, Auston did too, so he decided to go down to Arizona for part of it to spend some time with his family. It was a little wild to leave behind the still-chilly and damp Toronto April for Arizona heat—when he got on the plane at YYZ it was 45 and raining, and he was overdressed in his coat and toque when he stepped out into 90 degree sun. Shocking, maybe, but also amazing. It had been months since he’d felt the heat on his skin like that, and he hadn't realized how much he’d missed it. The two places were almost like two entirely separate worlds, they were so different.

His dad was there to pick him up, and it was great to see him too. Skyping every week was nice, but it didn’t make up for being swept up into a hug by the baggage carousel, seeing his dad laugh at how warmly he was dressed. His mom and sisters were both there when he got home, the girls having declared this an informal family reunion, and taken a few days off their jobs/school to come back and visit. He was only staying for four days, a long weekend, really, but those four days were fantastic. He got to eat his mom’s cooking, and hang out with his sisters, and go hiking with one of his friends from high school, snapchatting Mitch, Connor, and Dylan pictures of all the things he was seeing and doing. Mitch replied the most, with photos of the rain, or the street outside his house with the temperature filter, or Connor and Dylan fucking around.  
He had brought his digital camera with him too, and took an afternoon, edging into evening, to walk the streets of Scottsdale, taking pictures of the buildings and the plants, the rocks and the sky, the people he saw. It was odd, how being away from home for nearly a year altered the way he looked at things. Of course they were familiar, places he’d seen almost every day of his life, but now there was a sort of distance, as if the more he built a life in Toronto, the more dreamlike his own hometown started to feel. And there were new buildings, old ones that had given way to empty lots, neighbors who had moved away, was entirely familiar and yet uncannily different at the same time.  
———  
While he was home, his sisters teased him about being on his phone a lot, in the way that only siblings can get away with.

“Who are you texting?”

“Who’s got you smiling like that?”

“Did you finally start dating someone again?”

“Are they cute?”

Auston tried to get away with not replying, giving non-committal shrugs or hums, but they kept pestering him, coming up behind him on the couch and peering over his shoulder, until he finally gave them an honest answer.

“It’s the other art teacher at school, Mitch. We play hockey together on the weekends, and we’re like, friends now. He introduced me to his roommates and stuff, so I’ve been hanging out with them sort of a lot, lately.”

“And are you dating?”

“No! He’s my coworker, come on, that wouldn’t be appropriate!”

“But you want to?” That was his older sister, trying to sound wise.

“I mean, sure. He’s attractive and kind and funny and I like him a lot.”

“So you should go for it! As long as he isn’t your boss, it shouldn’t be a problem, and the school year is over in two months anyway. You have to tell him how you feel before summer starts and he goes off and finds some other angsty American artist to get with.”

Auston sighed. “Whatever. Can we pester someone else about their love life now?”

The conversation moved on, and they didn’t bring up Mitch again for the rest of his time in Arizona, which is sort of a relief, but also he was going home in a day anyway.  
———  
Going back to Toronto was a mixed bag of emotions. On the one hand, leaving his family and the warm weather sucked. But on the other hand, he was genuinely excited about seeing Mitch and his friends in the GTA, and he was going to have a few days of break where he could just hang out there, maybe do some freelance work if he wanted to.

It was cold, but not raining, when his plane landed. He had left his car in one of the parking garages, so he had to retrieve it and then drive home. His apartment was frigid, since he’d turned the thermostat way down while he was gone. He sent Mitch a photo of his empty fridge and a frowny face, and followed up with a text.

[To: Mitch, 5:08pm] What r u doing tonight? Do u want to get sth to eat?

[From: Mitch, 5:08pm] OMG yr back? I so do!  
______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Like, obviously a vacation was great. Not having to wake up early was great. But at the same time, not having Auston around was not so great, even if he was only gone for four days. Somehow, in the short time they’d known each other (seriously, it had only been two months), Auston had managed to insinuate himself into Mitch’s life to such a degree that it was weird and sad not to see him six days a week. Snapchats were no substitute for the real thing, solid and smiling in front of him.

While he was gone, Mitch mostly lazed around and played video games, bugged Connor and Dylan when they were home. Four days was just short enough for that to not get old, but by Tuesday evening, when he got Auston’s text, he had started to feel a little cabin fever. He texted back quickly, too excited about the idea of getting out of the house and seeing Auston to care if he seemed weird or desperate.

[From: Auston, 5:10pm] Cool…do u want to come into the city or should I drive out there? Might be kind of rush hour either way.

[To: Auston, 5:11pm] I’ll come into the city. I haven’t really left the house in two days haha

[From: Auston, 5:11pm] Haha wild…if u want to just head to my place we can go somewhere together? Less likely to get lost that way.

[To: Auston, 5:11pm] Okay. I just have to shower and stuff and then I’ll head in your direction!

Mitch raced through his routine, maybe putting a little more effort into his hair than he would have it had just been Connor and Dylan, putting on a pair of tight maroon pants and a charcoal henley. The ride to Auston’s wasn’t as shitty as it could have been, but there was certainly a reason he both lived and worked in Scarborough.

He texted Auston when he got to his building, and was buzzed up almost immediately. When he got to the door, feeling awkward and fiddling with his toque, Auston motioned him in and shut the door quickly before wrapping him in a hug. Mitch hugged back just as tightly, bowing his head a little so he could tuck it under Auston’s chin. Auston pulled away after a moment to say  
“I missed you more than I expected.”

“Me too,” Mitch replied softly.

“If you’ll just give me a second to grab my jacket, we can get going. There’s just this place down the street I thought you might go, if you’re okay with sort of generic, like, American food? Well, not American, I guess, that’s just what I would call it in the US, I guess?” Auston sounded more hesitant than usual, almost…nervous?

“Yeah, no, I know what you mean. That’s fine with me,” said Mitch, trying to erase the concern on Auston’s face.

He smiled. “Great. One minute,” then pulled his jacket off of the back of the couch and put it on, pulling a toque out of the pocket and putting that on too. He opened the door again, and once Mitch walked out, locked it behind them.

The walk to the restaurant was, as promised, less than five minutes. The place was on the ground floor of a taller building, brick with big windows. The interior was all copper metal and dark wood, a pretty girl with long dark hair waiting at a hostess stand.

“Hey Rachel,” Auston said to her. “Busy tonight?”

“No, not really. Tuesday nights, you know? Do you want a table for two, then?”

“Nah, I think we’re just going to sit at the bar, if that’s okay?”

He glanced back at Mitch at this, who was quick to respond with “Uh, sure.”

“Okay, no problem!” Rachel replied cheerfully. Here’s a pair of menus, then. Enjoy!”

“Thanks.”

Auston led them beyond the hostess stand, to a big octagonal bar with tall chairs all around. There was a TV in view of their seats that was showing the Leafs-Wild game, which was just about to start.

“Right here okay?” he asked. “I’d love to be able to watch some of this game, if you don’t mind.”

“That’s fine. I’m always down to watch the Leafs.”

They sat down, and the bartender came over almost immediately. When he asked what they wanted, Auston named some beer they had on tap, and Mitch, not being nearly as familiar with what was on offer, just said “Same,” after an awkward pause.

The beer was good, though, and the food, when it came, was even better. It was, as Auston had advertised, a kind of burgers and steak type place, but upscale in the way hipsters loved. Mitch’s burger came with a choice of toppings that included avocado slices, a fried egg, and (relatively) locally made cheese. It was delicious, though, despite the microgreens, and Mitch didn’t hesitate to say so.

“Yeah, that’s why I come here so much. A good bar, and the food is good too. And I’m usually alone for dinners and stuff, so I can just sit at the bar and watch TV. It’s usually sports, but without the sports bar vibe, you know? Like people are here for the food, not just the booze and the TVs.”

“Yeah. It seems like a great place.”

On screen, Eric Staal scored a goal. Not knowing what to say, Mitch took another bite of his burger, and watched the replay. His phone buzzed, and he ignored it. Auston drained the rest of his beer, and Mitch watched, transfixed by the line of his throat as he tilted his head back. He shook his head, clearing the image out of his head.

Auston insisted on paying for both of them when they were finished, saying “I made you drive all the way down here, come on. Don’t worry about it.”

Mitch tried to protest, but stopped after Auston said “Seriously, man. Please.” The idea of Auston asking him for something like that brought an image, unbidden, to his mind, of Auston saying “Please,” in a completely different scenario, one where he was naked underneath Mitch…While Mitch tried to bring his brain back on track (again), Auston took his silence as permission, and handed his card to the bartender.

“Do you want to go somewhere else next? I don’t know if you have stuff to do in the morning, but if you don’t, we could hang out for a while more, maybe grab another drink?” Auston asked hopefully.

“Yeah, I’d like that a lot,” Mitch said, feeling a smile split his features.

“Awesome,” Auston replied, smiling back.

The next place was another walk, this one a little longer, to a place that was significantly more “bar.” There weren’t very many tables, most of the space devoted to standing room. There was a decent crowd, even for a Tuesday night, and Auston left Mitch standing by one of the few chest-height tables to grab them drinks.

“If you want to just wait here, that way we can have a spot to set our drinks down? I’ll only be a second.”

“Okay.”

“What can I get you?”

“A cosmo?” Mitch felt a little silly, asking for something that…pink, but it was what he wanted, masculinity be damned. He watched Auston weave his way between the people, the way his ass looked in his jeans. Just to himself, he muttered “Come on, get it together, Jesus. You can’t keep being like this!” A young woman nearby must have heard him, because she glanced over and gave him a weird look, but then returned to her own conversation after a second.

Mitch checked his texts while he waited, saw the one from Dylan he’d gotten back at the restaurant. He was just chirping him about it being a date, something that seemed considerably less funny than Dylan probably intended. While he was trying to decide what to say, Auston came back to the table, startling him by setting a drink in front of him.

“Here you go,” he said warmly.

“What did you get?” Mitch asked, looking at Auston’s own drink, which was something clear and fizzing.

“Vodka tonic. The vodka is one they make in the city actually, it’s like a microbrewery type situation, but they do hard liquor instead. Do you want to try some?”

Mitch must have made a face, because Auston laughed a little. “You don’t have to, dude.”

“I just prefer my mixed drinks a little sweeter than that.”

“Yeah, makes sense. My dad used to drink vodka and water sometimes, so I sort of got used to it, I guess.”

The conversation flowed freely, as did the drinks, as they talked about their parents, and more about Auston’s trip to Arizona, Auston leaning closer and closer throughout the night. Mitch felt himself getting more drunk than was perhaps wise, but he couldn’t bring himself to care, reaching the state where drinking more seemed like a great idea, especially if it meant Auston would curl an arm around him like that. At one point they were even dancing a little to the music, chests flush together, hips not quite close enough to be grinding, but not far from it either.

When the bar closed, Mitch was certainly to drunk to drive.

“I should call an uber. Will my car be okay until tomrorow?”

“Come on man, don’t do that. You can crash at my place.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, totally. Let’s go, they obviously are trying to close down.”

So they walked back to Auston’s place, a little unsteadily. Once they made it up the stairs, Mitch wasn’t thinking of anything, really, besides finding a bed. Auston shoved a glass of water into his hand, along with an ibuprofen, both of which he downed as quickly as possible. Once he was done, he tried to stumble over to the couch, but Auston grabbed him by the wrist before he could.

“That couch sucks, really. You would wake up feeling so sore.” Instead, he led Mitch into his bedroom and closed the door, before stripping off his own shirt and jeans, putting on a worn out Coyotes t-shirt over his boxer briefs. He threw another t-shirt at Mitch, one advertising a charity run, and then climbed into bed, leaving the left side free. Mitch scrambled out of his clothes quickly, put on the shirt, and got into the bed as well, being sure to leave plenty of room between them.

Auston scooted a little closer, and Mitch, his nose full of the smell of Auston, chemicals and Old Spice and coffee, reached out for him almost automatically. At that, Auston pulled him into an embrace, manhandling him easily so he was plastered along Mitch’s back, both of them nodding off to sleep to quickly to overthink it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long! I'm actually posting this chapter uncompleted because I didn't want to wait so long between posting new parts. The new semester has really been hard for me...but at least here's something? Hopefully the next part won't take quite so long to write! Thank you to everyone who's been sticking with this and commenting/leaving kudos/subscribing!

Mitch woke up the next morning head aching fiercely, but deliciously warm. He wondered for a moment if he’d crawled in with Connor and Dylan the night before, and hoped he hadn’t bothered them too much. Then, memories of the night before began to trickle back, and he forced his eyes open. The heat was coming from Auston, who Mitch could feel pressed against his back, a long line of warmth where they touched. He could feel Auston hard against his ass, but pushed the thought away. People wake up hard all the time, but it didn’t mean anything. He closed his eyes again to block out the sunlight coming in the crack between the curtains, and went back to sleep for a while.

When he woke up again, it was to the feeling of Auston pressing his face into Mitch’s neck, warm and sleepy and soft. Mitch stirred a little, stretching his neck to give Auston better access.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice scratchy with sleep and too much alcohol from the night before.

“Morning,” Auston replied, quiet and just as sleepy. “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yeah, thanks. You?”

“Yeah,” Auston smiled against the Mitch’s neck. “You’re warm.”

“So are you, though. I haven’t woken up like this since the last time I fell asleep with Connor and Dylan by accident, and even then I woke up cause someone was poking me.”

“Awww, that’s sweet though. You’re so cuddly, I should’ve known you’d do that at least once.”

“Ugh, whatever,” Mitch said, but there was no real heat in it. He was too content with his current lot in life to want to do anything to compromise it, or to really feel angry. 

He let himself lie there for a few more minutes, savoring the warmth and closeness, before moving Auston’s arm off of his torso like it was a seatbelt he was unbuckling.

“C’mon, it’s probably time to get up. Do you want to make breakfast or something?” 

“Mmm yes please. I don’t know how much stuff I have, but there’s like a convenience store real close to here if I need, like, milk or something.”

He stumbled into Auston’s kitchen to find that his fridge was kind of pathetically empty, containing mostly condiments, jam, and some eggs, but his cupboards had all the dry ingredients one would expect. Following after him somewhat slower, Auston started the coffee maker as if on autopilot. 

 

“If one of us went to get milk, we could have pancakes? I’m not the best cook, Connor usually does that type of stuff, but I can make pancakes from scratch,” Mitch said.

“That sounds so amazing, wow. If you wanted to like take a shower and borrow something to wear, I could go down and grab some milk.”

“Cool. Your shower work any kind of weird way?”

“No,” Auston said. “Most of my clothes are probably way too big for you, but there are some sweatpants somewhere that are a little smaller, I’ll just dig them out for you real quick.”

He did so, and then put on a pair of sunglasses with his coat and hat before venturing outside. Evidently his head was hurting as much as Mitch’s. A quick shower helped a lot, as did one of the ibuprofen he found still sitting on the kitchen counter. In the shower, he had to talk his dick down a bit, trying to think of anything but how it had felt to wake up next to Auston, how different and soft he had looked, imagining his ass pressed closer to Auston’s crotch, grinding up against him…those were not appropriate thoughts to have about one’s coworker, let alone in that coworker’s shower. When he went into the kitchen, wearing a pair of slightly too big sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt (this one advertising RISD), Auston was just getting back, sticking a liter of milk into the fridge. 

“Hey! Do you want some coffee?” he asked.

“Oh my gosh, absolutely.” Mitch replied.

Auston grabbed a mug out of the cupboard that looked handmade, with a tree sort of incised into the blue surface to reveal the grey clay underneath. He poured coffee into it and pushed it towards Mitch, along with a bowl of irregular, “rustic” looking cubes of sugar in the raw. Then he started to fill another mug for himself, this one shaped like a camera lens with a handle. Mitch dropped a couple sugar cubes into his cup and stirred them around before taking a sip. 

“This is good coffee. What kind is it?”

“Oh, um…” Auston began sheepishly. “It’s like, from this coffee shop from Phoenix that like, roasts all their own beans?”

“That’s the most hipster thing, omg!” Mitch said, laughing.

“Well, at least I’m not the one who just used a texting abbreviation out loud!” Auston chirped back.

“Okay, whatever!”

The pancake-making process was a little messier than it was when it was just Mitch—somehow Auston ended up with flour smudged across his cheekbone, and Mitch got it all down the front of his shirt—but it gone done, and Auston ate the first couple of ugly pancakes quickly and without syrup when Mitch’s back was turned, so they must have been good.

After all the batter was cooked, Mitch stuck the frying pan in the sink and carried the plate of pancakes over to the table and took a seat. Auston had already set the table and put out syrup, so he just put a couple silver-dollar size pancakes on his plate.

“What, the chef is going to serve himself first?” Auston chirped.

“No, asshole, I’m the guest. You always serve the guest first,” Mitch teased back.

The rest of breakfast…or brunch, probably, since it was 11:30 by that point, was much quieter, mostly filled with the sounds of forks scraping on plates and occasionally “Can you pass the syrup?” When they were done, Auston offered to do the dishes, since Mitch had cooked, while Mitch stood by and chatted, Auston throwing bubbles or flicking water on him when he was being silly. 

The dishes done, Mitch realized there wasn’t much reason for him to still be there, that Auston probably had other things to do with his day.

“So, I guess I should head home soon…” he began, looking sidelong at where Auston was drying his hands on a clean dishtowel. Even from that perspective, he could see Auston’s face fall at the words.

“Yeah, I’m sure you’ve got stuff going on today, wouldn’t want to keep you from any of that.”

“Honestly? Not really. I just don’t want to be in your hair. I know you just got back from visiting your family, I don’t know if you’ve got other things to do with your break or whatever.”

“Nah, not at all. I wanted some time to just be in Toronto, maybe work on some of my own projects a little, just chill, you know? If you want to stay, we could play chel or something.”

Mitch perked up at that. Auston sounded so hopeful and nervous, like he didn’t know that Mitch would jump on any opportunity to kill him at video games. 

“That sounds great, actually.”

“Cool,” Auston said, smiling the kind of smile that softened his face and made him look younger than he was.

It’s only after video games, and marathoning several episodes of Stranger Things, and then ordering pizza for dinner that Mitch really remembered that he did, in fact, have a life outside of spending time with Auston.

“Hey, man, I really should go, let you get back to your regularly scheduled programming of whatever,” he said, a little sadly.

Auston sighed a tiny sigh. “You’re probably right. But hey…if you don’t have plans, do you want to do something tomorrow? I was thinking of going to this gallery, they just had some new work go up…only if you want to, though.”

Mitch’s heart jumped in his chest.

“Sure! That sounds like a lot of fun! What time? We could maybe get a bite to eat at some point as well?”

“I was thinking of going in the afternoon, so if you wanted to come by around lunch, like maybe twelve, we could do that?”

“Great!” 

Mitch smiled and hugged Auston, suddenly feeling better about leaving when he knew they’d get to see each other again soon. 

In the car, though, the drive back to Scarborough felt longer than usual, the road stretching out long and black in front of him, the red taillights along the highway the only break from black road and black sky. The soundtrack of Keaton Henson, Daughter, and Ben Howard that Spotify had provided didn’t much help the melancholy mood either. He found himself lost in his thoughts, half daydreams about waking up next to Auston every day, and half depressing internal monologues about how they could never be together. 

Back at his house, Connor and Dylan were in their bedroom with the door closed and the xx playing, Connor’s favorite sex playlist. Mitch rolled his eyes a little and then went into his room, put in headphones, and watched Planet Earth until he fell asleep, even though it was sort of too early for that.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow am I sorry this took so long to update! But it's done now, this is the end! Happy playoffs to everyone! Thank you so much for reading and commenting this whole time, I'm so glad you've enjoyed reading this (:

Auston was sad to see Mitch go, but really, really didn’t want to be smothering. Just because he had a ridiculous, grade-school level crush on him didn’t mean Mitch felt the same. At all. To try to distract himself from the sudden silence of his apartment, he plugged his phone into the speakers and played The Weakerthans, something upbeat and noisy to try to pull himself out of his head. He grabbed his laptop as well, to start going through his photos from Arizona, figuring some work would help as well. It did, almost too well, and he soon found himself sucked into the workflow of importing, deleting, and editing his favorites out of the photos. Even the ones he found most successful needed something, even if it was just a little color correcting, and by the time he looked at the clock to see it was past midnight, he had a headache from the eyestrain.

Getting up alone the next morning was decidedly less fun, but he made himself do it, eating breakfast and heading out for his run slower than usual. By the time he got back, he actually didn’t have that much time to shower and get ready before Mitch was supposed to be coming over. If he spent a little too much time fussing over what to wear and how his hair looked, there was no one around to know.

Lunch was fun, and going to the gallery was even more so. Seeing Mitch so passionate about art was amazing, even if Auston did watch him light up around his students five days a week anyway. Right after they were finished there, and deliberating on what to do next (aside from go to Tim Hortons, because they were both in need of some caffeine), Mitch got a text in his group chat with Connor and Dylan.

“Hey, Connor wants to know if you want to come over for dinner.” Mitch read out. “Apparently he’s trying some kind of new pasta recipe and it looks like it’s going to make too much for three people.”

“I mean, I’m not really going to turn down free food.”

“Okay, fair,” Mitch said, laughing. “If you wanted to, I could drive you there and you could stay the night? I know that’s maybe a lot, but we have a pull-out couch and it’s pretty far to drive once it gets sort of late…”

Auston was surprised at the fact that Mitch would actively seek out having him stay over, but he was hardly complaining about it. Spending the morning with him had been so great the other day, and as much as he wanted to do it again, he hadn’t been at all sure Mitch felt the same.

So, after going through the Tim Horton’s drive through and stopping by Auston’s place for him to grab some clothes for the next day, they drove on to Scarborough. The combination of good music, coffee, good company, and warm sun through the window made Auston feel sleepy and excited all at once, and he leaned back against the headrest and looked out the window, letting Mitch’s voice and the sound of the radio wash over him.  
———  
Mitch’s house was filled with the smell of cooking when they got there, and they could hear Connor and Dylan laughing and talking in the kitchen. The pasta was, apparently, some kind of salmon-tomato-basil-cream sauce, and as it simmered on the stove, the four of them stood around talking about the Leafs ongoing playoff run (incredible), their Stanley Cup chances (less incredible), and Auston’s trip to Arizona. It was a chill time, like it always was when they hung out, and the more time they spent together, the more comfortable Auston got with the whole group, feeling like he really was finding friends in the other guys, and not just Mitch.

The pasta proved to be delicious, even if it was Connor’s first time cooking it, though it probably wasn’t improved by the cheap beer they drank with it. After dinner there was hockey to watch, and more beer to drink, and it was easy to let the time just slip away from him. Before he really realized it, he was dozing a little on Mitch’s shoulder while the post-game commentators talked excitedly on the screen, closing his eyes for just a minute and then opening them again to see someone had changed the channel and it was actually twenty minutes later.

“Come on Auston, you look pretty tired, you should probably head to bed.” Mitch said softly, just into his ear. Auston held back a shiver as he felt Mitch’s breath ghost across the shell of his ear, and swallowed dryly before nodding.

“Yeah. So, you said you had a pullout couch?”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I think Connor and Dylan are gonna finish watching this episode of fucking House Hunters, or whatever. Just come sleep in my bed, it’s not like we haven’t done that before.”

Not needing much encouragement to spend another six to eight hours cuddled up with Mitch, Auston hummed in affirmation and stood up slowly, his knees creaking like he was sixty and not twenty four. They got ready for bed fairly quickly and quietly, both too tired to make much conversation and really just wanting to be prone and asleep.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Waking up next to Auston the next morning was, in a word, amazing. It was so warm and sleepy and contended, and Mitch felt so good all wrapped up in his arms. But as amazing as it was, it also made his heart hurt, knowing he only got to have this for as long as Auston was asleep. He lay there, basking in the sunlight through the blinds and the heat of Auston’s back pressed against his, not wanting to go back to sleep or miss a minute of this time he had.

Some time later, Mitch wasn’t sure how long, Auston started to stir and pulled Mitch even closer, pressing his dick up against Mitch’s ass (which made Mitch’s thoughts decidedly less pure and cuddly). Mitch squirmed away, not wanting to make either of them uncomfortable, but when he did, Auston made a little sound of protest.

“Auston,” Mitch said, carefully, quietly. “I can’t…I can’t have you all up on me like that, knowing you don’t…”

“Don’t what?” Auston asked, his voice husky from sleep but clearly alert.

“That you don’t feel the way I do!” Mitch said, trying to keep his voice quiet and calm but sort of failing.

“And how would that be?”

“Don’t make me embarrass myself dude, surely you’ve noticed I have like, the biggest thing for you. And I know that’s super unprofessional and like if you don’t want to see each other outside of work or whatever, that’s—“

“Mitch, Mitch calm down. One, I for sure did not notice you had any type of feelings for me, and two, like, same?”

Mitch, whose heart had already been beating nearly out of his chest, felt even more lightheaded.

“You do?” he asked, his voice coming out almost like a squeak.

“Um, yeah, I’m like crazy about you.”

“Oh,” Mitch breathed out, before wriggling around in Auston’s arms so they were chest-to-chest, their faces just inches apart. He pressed their lips together, before he had time to think about it and decide it was a bad idea.

Kissing Auston was even better than he would’ve thought. He kissed exactly the way Mitch liked, not too wet or sloppy but more than just a dry press of lips, his big hands around Mitch’s waist pulling him closer in a way that felt so good. One of Auston’s broad thighs fitted itself between Mitch’s legs, and almost involuntarily, Mitch found himself grinding down against it, the kiss deepening and turning dirty much quicker than he would’ve expected. Putting a hand against Auston’s chest, he pulled back, breathing heavily.

“Wait. We need to talk about this. I’m not just here to hook up with you once, or do any type of no strings attached situation. I like you, like, as a whole person, and want us to be dating or whatever. And we work together. We can’t let this be a problem there.” Mitch said, once he caught his breath a little.

“Okay. I’m not particularly interested in being friends with benefits either, so that works out. And I won’t let this be a problem at work. There’s less than half a semester left, anyway, and I don’t know if they’ll have me back next year. And no matter what happens, I really want to be with you and I would do whatever it takes, because I really care about you, Mitch.”

Hearing Auston say his name like that, so sweetly and softly, made Mitch’s stomach do funny things. He was a grown ass man, too big to get butterflies in his stomach over a new boyfriend. Yet here he was, apparently.

“Okay. Let’s do that, then. Wow. You’re really great, did you know?”

Auston didn’t say anything, just laughed before kissing him again, shutting him up for quite a while. When they finally emerged from the bedroom, Connor and Dylan were sitting at the kitchen table eating pancakes.

“We left you some, they’re in the oven. Hopefully they’re still warm.” Connor said, his voice friendly but with an odd note in it.

When Mitch opened the oven, he saw the pancakes, not stacked up but spread across a tray. “Congrats on finally getting your shit together” was written in them in that pancake art from Instagram.

“Dude, how long did this take you? And since when can you make this kind of shit?” Mitch asked, still looking at the tray of pancakes.

“A long time! But I had a long time, because someone was too busy boning their new boyfriend to get up at a reasonable time!”

“What, like you don’t have your own boyfriend to entertain you?” Mitch teased.

“It’s the principle of the thing!” Connor said, but the laughter breaking through his words ruined his faked annoyance.

Through all this, Auston had been standing a little awkwardly in the corner, but he wandered over to the countertop to pick up one of the pancakes, the one that said “shit,” and start eating it just plain. Seeing Auston all morning-mussed, eating a pancake in his kitchen, did things to Mitch. He raised up on tiptoe to kiss Auston on the cheek, before getting down a plate and fixing his own pancake.

Dylan made fake gagging sounds at the kiss, but then got up from his seat to give Mitch a hug.

“I’m really happy for you. He seems like a great guy, and I’m so glad you have something good going for you there,” he whispered in Mitch’s ear. Mitch nodded against his neck, but didn’t say anything. Mitch felt an odd sort of melancholy when he broke away, but quickly forgot the feeling as he brought his plate of pancakes over to the table and set into eating them.

The kitchen was sunny, a window open to let in a spring breeze. He was eating pancakes, surrounded by three of his favorite people in the whole world. He had a job he loved, a boyfriend he liked immensely, and didn’t even have to go to work the next day. For now, he was perfectly, incandescently happy.

ONE YEAR LATER:

“Hey babe, can you grab that last box there? I think it has some kitchen supplies in it or something.”

“Yeah, of course. What do you want me to do with the keys?”

“Just lock the door and give them to me. I’m dropping them off in the mailbox downstairs.”

Auston locked the door behind him for the last time, feeling bittersweet. This apartment had been great, at least some of the time. And while moving out to the suburbs at 25 wasn’t exactly his idea of a good time, moving in with his serious boyfriend sure was. The little house in Scarborough would probably be a bit more crowded with four people living there instead of three, but he was tired of driving so far every day for work and he spent so many nights at Mitch’s anyway, it didn’t really make sense to keep his own apartment at this point.

As they made the drive out of his neighborhood for the last time (at least in this context), Auston tried not to do too much of the movie-montage reflecting on his life there. This wasn’t really about that, after all. It was just about him, and Mitch, and the teaching job he’d grown to love more than he ever could have guessed, and the basement Mitch and Connor and Dylan were going to let him use as a darkroom, and music and cooking and hockey and building a life together. It was about where he went from here, not the places he was leaving behind.

Driving down the DVP, windows down and music blaring through the speakers, it was far easier not to feel nostalgic about an apartment. He reached for Mitch’s hand across the gearshift and smiled, face going soft even as he stared at the road ahead.

“I love you,” he said. Not for the first time, and not for the last, but because he meant it.


End file.
